Don’t Forget You’re Taking Her Home
by Trekkie101
Summary: Pointless Catherine/Sara fluff... utter fluff, honestly. Don't read if you don't like femslash... PG C/S


**A/N: **This is a SHAMELESS bit of FLUFF. It has NO purpose whatsoever, it was just rattling around inside my head and needed to be written down. The end is lame, but I like it. 3

**Warning:** This is femslash aka girl-on-girl aka two girls in a committed, loving relationship. The rating is PG. No smut, no heavy petting. Just some kissing, and a real love. Don't read if you don't like.

**Disclaimer:** CSI: Crime Scene Investigation belongs to Anthony Zuiker and CBS. The characters belong to their actors, I just make them do the things I want.

**Don't Forget You're Taking Her Home**

The glasses in front of her had hardly been touched since their arrival at the "Annual Police Ball." Considering Vegas had never had a police ball before, the annual part was a bit of a joke, and foreshadowed more evenings of tortured for all involved. Catherine had been whisked away into Nick's arms as soon as the music began, glancing over her shoulder at Sara who smiled as brightly as she could. Sara had spent the rest of the evening watching her lover with equal parts frustration and appeal as she was passed around from dance partner to dance partner.

Catherine wore a tiny, dark purple, satin number, its skirt flying around her thighs as she danced. Warrick had whistled in appreciation when she arrived, and Greg had spouted off an atrocious pick up line involving the distance between the neckline and hem of her dress. She had laughed openly, her head falling back and tantalizing Sara as the ends of her curls brushed her shoulder blades.

The attention of "the boys," as Catherine usually referred to them, was not bothering Sara at all. Nick, Greg, and Warrick were as close to family as the ladies had, and Sara loved them for making her lover feel beautiful as she flew around the dance floor. It was the other attention settled on Catherine, however, that was making Sara's insides churn.

"So, you're gonna let them ogle her, all night long?" Brass' voice interrupted Sara's fuming and she turned towards him with a glare. Jim was one of only two people who currently knew about Sara's relationship with Catherine—one of their weekly lunches had been the day after Sara's first date with the redhead, and she hadn't been able to wipe the smile off of her face.

" I don't know what you are talking about," Sara returned, refocusing on the dance floor and attempting to school her features into something less intimidating than her previous scowl. She failed, miserably.

"Bullshit," Brass chuckled. "The entire male portion of my police force hasn't stopped drooling over your woman all night. That's enough to make anybody mad."

"Not true," Sara protested feebly. Brass raised an eyebrow at her. "Chris Turner is gay." There was a pause, and then both burst into laughter. When they calmed, Sara wrapped her hands around her glass, staring into the filmy blue liquid with a melancholy pout on her lips. "I don't know what to do."

Brass took a sip of his scotch and watched as Catherine was pulled from Nick's arms into Greg's, who tried to put his hands a little lower on her back than they should be. She slapped him lightly and, smirking, let Warrick pull her away as Greg mimed injury and limped dramatically to the bar. For a while, he didn't answer the young brunette next to him. Jim Brass wasn't a man to offer pithy sayings or unnecessary advice. He also wasn't a man to let someone he loved be miserable out of their own stupidity.

"She looks like she's having fun," he commented. Sara nodded, almost imperceptibly, and took a gulp of her drink. He watched her shiver as the too-sweet alcohol hit her throat, then continued. "She keeps looking over here."

Sara turned her gaze towards him. "She asked me if I was going to dance with her tonight." The message beneath her quiet admission was clear to Brass. They had talked, a couple of times, about Catherine's willingness to come out to their coworkers, and Sara's fears. After all, this was the police force they were dealing with.

"Are you?" There was a moment of silence. Catherine's laughter floated across the room, as another song began.

"Yes." Brass raised an eyebrow in surprise. Sara placed her glass on the table, pushed her chair back, and stood slowly. "Yes, I am."

He watched the woman he loved as a daughter walk away from the table in the direction of the deejay booth, gaining confidence with every step. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that the 32nd Annual Police Ball was nearing its end. "Good timing, cookie," he muttered.

Moments later, Sara slipped between dancing couples and approached Catherine. Tapping Warrick on the shoulder as the current song began to fade away, Sara wiped her hands on her charcoal grey pants and nodded lightly to the redhead.

"You mind if I cut in," she asked Warrick. "I'd like to borrow my date for a dance." For a moment his brown eyes sparked in surprise, but them he grinned and bowed elaborately.

"As you wish, m'lady," he crooned, forcing a smile onto Sara's lips as well. Turning to Catherine, the younger woman bit her lower lip, her dark eyes looking down into her lover's with a question.

"I thought you'd never ask," Catherine murmured as Sara slid one arm around her waist. Her other hand was clutched against the brunette's furiously beating heart, and she reached up to press a kiss to her cheek. "You don't have to—"

"I love you." Sara's voice was rich, without a hint of hesitation. In the background, Michael Buble's voice poured over the dance floor, causing Sara to pull Catherine close and into motion.

"You just wanted to make the cops jealous," Catherine teased. Sara grinned in response, and sang a line with a cocky attitude.

"Just don't forget who's taking you home and in whose arms you're gonna be." Their feet moved together, each used to the other's movements from months of living room dancing. They fell silent, Catherine leaning in close and trusting her lover to guide her around the floor. She was sure there were many pairs of eyes trained on them, but honestly could not have cared less. Their relationship remaining a secret for so long had been the brunette's request, and although Catherine knew it was logical, it had still bothered her. Not in the sense that she felt Sara was ashamed of her, or anything that way. It was simply a matter of not being able to _be_ with Sara the way she wanted.

_Oh, I know, that the music's fine, like sparkling wine_

_Go and have your fun_

_Laugh and sing, but while we're apart don't give your heart_

_To anyone_

_And don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be_

_Oh, darling, save the last dance for me…_

Catherine was used to public relationships. Grocery shopping together, or going to see a movie, without having to drive out of town. She had found herself wanting, time and again, to grab a hug from her lover in the locker room at work after a tough case, or to ask her to pick up Lindsay as they sat in the break room.

"Baby, don't you know, I love you so? Can't you feel it when we touch?" Sara's gravelly voice was soft, the lyrics meant for Catherine's ears alone. " will never, ever let you go. I love you…so much." Pulling her forehead away from Sara's clavicle, where it had been resting, Catherine grinned up at her lover. The older woman's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but bright.

"Does this mean…?" Catherine was surprised at how shaky her voice sounded. She hadn't realized how much the months of silence had been festering in her, until she found herself faced with Sara's risk. And they were risking everything in this dance. Not only was she Sara's superior, and not only had they worked several cases together since becoming lovers, they were both women. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy of the military, also known as "don't be yourself, don't hurt yourself," was a part of the police force in Vegas, and certainly had the potential in forcing one or either woman out of their job.

_You can dance, go and carry on 'til the night is gone_

_And it's time to go_

_If he asks if you're all alone, can he walk you home?_

_You must tell him no_

_'Cause don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be_

_Oh, darling, save the last dance for me…_

"It means I love you, Catherine. You're too beautiful to be hidden away, and to amazing to feel like you should be. You, and Lindsay, and me. We're a family, right?" Catherine nodded because her voice suddenly didn't work. "So, we'll work this out. Whatever happens."

The song was catapulting to a close, and Sara pressed a kiss to Catherine's forehead. Somewhere far outside the reaches of their own bubble of reality, the Police Commissioner was making a speech to shut the ball down, but neither woman cared.

"I love you, Sara," Catherine whispered. As always, the phrase plastered a smile on the brunette's face.

"You ready for the gossip? The teasing from the boys? Ecklie with all three veins in his head ready to burst?" Sara was teasing, though both knew the measure of severity behind her words.

"Yup."

"Good." They kissed, as the dance floor swarmed with couples saying goodbye to partners and teammates. Greg, Nick, and Warrick watched from the sidelines, ready to intercept any negative reactions towards "their girls." Ecklie fumed in the corner, his wife rolling her eyes, and taking another gulp of her vodka. Several cops, who hadn't yet had the guts to come out, watched with equal measures of pride an jealous. None of the goings on mattered at all, though. Catherine and Sara had each other, their family, and the kiss.


End file.
